


You Fell So Close to Me

by orphan_account



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Fairy Tales, Holidays, M/M, Mpreg, Paganism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-10
Updated: 2011-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-14 15:51:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/150924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Puck said 'my boy Kurt' during the fight in the locker room, forces he doesn't understand respond to that claim. And then Puck's left alone, so the Glee girls invoke the power of an ancient ritual to get Puck's lover back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Fell So Close to Me

On the first night of Hanukah, which happens to be December first that year, Naomi Puckerman pulls out the gifts from Grandma and Grandpa Puckerman. Noah and his sister, Sarah, exchange a wary glance as they light the candles on the menorah. They both know from bitter past experiences that Grandma Puckerman still blames their mother for their father’s absence and tends to give them the most humiliating presents she can manage. Naomi fully believes in respecting her elders, no matter how much they treat her like shit though, so she gives off an impression of cheerful excitement as her children settle onto the couch beside her.

“First for you, Sarah,” Naomi says, handing her daughter the package adorned with silver stars.

Sarah takes one last look at her brother for strength and then slowly peels the paper and tape away from the package. She stares at it for a moment in horrified shock.

“What is it, dear?” Naomi asks.

Turning the box so her mother can see it, Sarah holds it up, her face suffused with red. Puck catches sight of it and has the sudden urge to punch the old lady’s lights out. The present is a starter kit of feminine supplies in a lurid pink box covered in dreamy flowers.

“Mom . . .” Sarah begins in protest, but Naomi cuts her off.

“You’ll be a woman soon. My little girl. So hard for me to see it, but Grandma gave you a wise and thoughtful gift.”

“That’s bullshit,” Puck exclaims.

“Noah, enough,” Naomi says, picked up what’s clearly a shoebox wrapped in blue and silver.

Puck snarls as he takes his present, not bothering to be careful with the wrapping paper. Inside the shoebox is more tissue paper, covering something hard. Pulling the tissue away, Puck sees the brightly painted face of some porcelain doll. He picks it up to show his mother. It’s a weird looking kid with odd proportions . . . rosy cheeks and stiff hair. He’s standing under an apple tree and appears to be singing to a yellow bird perched on the branches.

“Oh, there’s a note,” Naomi says, picking up a square of cardboard. “ _I found this at the flea market in Columbus last week and thought of you._ ”

Naomi takes the doll from Noah’s hands and turns it over. “A Hummel figurine. From Germany.”

Even with her refusal to be insulted by her mother-in-law’s slurs, Naomi will have a hard time rising above that fact that the gift is a reminder of the brutality done to their people, and Grandma Puckerman knows it. Puck wants to take the doll outside and smash its painted head on the driveway, but he knows that would upset his mother further.

The doll brings up other, uncomfortable memories for Puck, memories of other things named ‘Hummel’ and things that have been lost. He wishes that New Directions could get their songbird back, but while Karofsky roams free, he knows it isn’t possible.

Puck pulls the figurine out of her hands, setting it on the end table. “Let’s eat, okay?”

Later that night, Puck hides the doll in the back of his closet where he hopes his mother will never see it again. He wishes he could think of a suitable revenge on his grandmother that wouldn’t get him into trouble. It would need to be subtle and offensive at the same time. He has no idea what that might be, but he goes to bed still brooding on his revenge.

He comes awake suddenly, his heart pounding as though he’d had a nightmare of being chased. Puck turns over, pounding his pillow into a more comfortable shape and then freezes, realizing that he isn’t alone in the bed.

“What the fu . . .” he shouts, but a slim finger presses against his lips, quieting him.

“Shh,” the person whispers in a voice that sounds like distant bells. “I can escape my cage only briefly.”

Puck nods his acquiescence against the other boy’s finger. The boy pulls his hand away from Puck’s mouth, but he settles in against Puck’s side, warm and pliant.

“Who are you?” Puck asks, his voice pitched low enough that it won’t carry.

“I can’t tell you,” the boy answers. “Call me Epel.”

“Okay,” Puck says. He knows he should be freaking out over the strange person in bed with him, but Epel seems harmless.

“You are beautiful,” Epel says, his hand drifting across Puck’s torso.

Now the encounter has definitely taken a turn for the weird, but Puck has a policy of never turning down sex, unless it involves people that Finn is already dating, a hard lesson that he’s nevertheless learned over the past year. It never ends well for him when he’s been swimming in Finn’s pool.

“I’d say the same of you,” Puck says, “but I can’t see you.”

“I’m sorry for that,” Epel says. “But I have no choice. For you to see me would be disastrous.”

Deciding to drop the subject, Puck asks instead, “What are you doing here?”

“Your nights of light free me from my prison temporarily. You were given to me, so I come to claim you.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

The boy chuckles, a low sound that starts a tingling in Puck’s stomach as his body reacts to the presence of someone else beside him.

“Don’t you know that some gifts work both ways? You named me as yours once, now I’m here to return the favor.” Epel asks. “The giftee becomes the gift. You are mine.”

The boy slides his hand further downwards, encountering Puck’s hardness. “See? You acknowledge my claim already.”

Puck whimpers a little and presses himself into the strong fingers that grip him, wanting more contact. Desire trickles through him, overcoming his fear of the unknown that settled on him when he found the uninvited guest in his bed.

“What do you want?” he gasps, fighting against the need that crowds his throat and steals his voice.

“You.”

“Fuck, yeah,” Puck says. “Everyone wants a piece of the Puckasaurus.”

Yeah, so he’s never had sex with a dude before, but he’d never had sex with a fat girl either, until Lauren, and that had worked out pretty good.

“Let me breed you,” Epel says. “Plant my seed inside your body.”

Puck snorts, “You want me to bottom?”

This dude has a really weird way of talking, but hey, he managed to sneak into Puck’s bedroom somehow, so Puck really shouldn’t be questioning any further strangeness. He’s never imagined taking it in the ass before, but lots of guys do it, so maybe they’re on to something.

Epel laughs again. “You have no faith. But yes, I want you to allow me into your body.”

“Uhm, okay, I guess.”

Puck’s pretty nervous about the idea, but he hasn’t gotten laid in a while, and his curiosity is burning him.

“Can you kiss me first?” he asks.

“You are amazing,” Epel says, rolling on top of Puck.

He ducks his head down, his lips unerringly finding Puck’s mouth. He pushes his tongue inside without asking, taking over Puck as though he truly did own him. Puck melts back against his pillows, sinking into the kiss. He wraps his hands around Epel’s back, delighted by the smooth skin he finds there. His eyes have adjusted to the darkness, but he still can’t make out Epel’s features.

Strong thighs press between his knees, opening his legs. Puck goes with it, no thought in his mind to deny this strange lover anything. Slick fingers probe him, and then enter where nothing else ever has. Puck pants at the oddness of the feeling, but the nerves ringing his entrance give him nothing but messages of pleasure.

“Let me in,” Epel commands softly.

Puck struggles to obey, to allow the intrusion that he’s never imagined before. Epel pulls his fingers away and then a larger organ touches his hole. Puck is still working on the previous command, but his body seems to know what it wants and he feels himself opening. Epel slides all the way in, and although Puck’s ring of muscles burn from the unaccustomed stretch, the feeling of heated flesh buried inside him sends jolts of pleasure up his spine. Puck raises his legs, trying to get the other boy deeper inside him.

“You are so responsive,” Epel says, moving his hips in a languid rhythm.

His dick is hard, rising proud towards his stomach and Puck wants to touch himself, but something about Epel’s stated claim on him makes him reluctant. None of the cougars he’s fucked, not Lauren, not Quinn, and certainly never Santana have given him such a feeling of contentment. He realizes that he doesn’t care much about his own pleasure, but that his delight is tied to how much Epel enjoys him. He wants desperately to please this strange boy with his body, and the surrender of his will.

“Do you want to come?” Epel asks.

Puck thinks that’s a fucking silly question, not really deserving of an answer, but the weird feeling of belonging to the other boy persists and he says, “If you want it.”

Epel says, “When you feel the heat of my release inside you, let go of your own.”

Puck suddenly remembers the lack of condoms and freezes in fear, specters of diseases floating through his mind, but the stroking of Epel’s cock against a sensitive spot inside him makes his fears disappear. It doesn’t take long after that . . . Epel’s hips shudder as he digs himself as deeply into Puck as he can go. Puck feels the dick inside him jumping and shuddering, a very peculiar feeling, but one that gets him indescribably hot. He touches himself, a few tugs and then he’s coming too, painting their stomachs with his jizz.

Epel pulls out and then leans down, much to Puck’s shock, and kisses him just on his hole. The act is so wrong and dirty that he almost gets hard again, but instead finds himself yawning and turning over to go back to sleep before he can say another word to Epel.

When he wakes up in the morning, there’s no sign of his night’s visitor. His body has no ill effects from the unusual activities, other than the tendons on the insides of his thighs feeling a little sore from being stretched wide. Puck blushes as he remembers how eager he was to spread his legs for the boy. Once again, Puck wonders what his visitor looks like.

On the second night, the presents are from Aunt Ruth, who works at the WalMart in Toledo. Her gifts are cheap and unimaginative, but at least they aren’t humiliating. Puck and Sarah breathe sighs of relief as they open the little bags of candy. Naomi smiles as she serves dinner and Puck says the prayer.

That night, Puck tries to stay awake to see if Epel will come back, but he’s unaccountably tired and drifts off almost as soon as he’s pulled the covers up.

He wakes up again as someone settles beside him in the bed, and Puck finds that Epel has already made himself free with Puck’s body. His dick is rock hard, and his muscles loosen and give way to the boy’s probing fingers.

“Fuck me,” Puck mutters, feeling needy and hot.

“Your body is ready for my gift,” Epel agrees.

He slides into Puck’s body, smooth and searing as he parts Puck’s flesh. Puck finds that he’s already learned how to take a cock and he tilts his hips up, asking for more. Epel obliges him, but with none of the gentleness of the previous night, now that Puck’s gay virginity is gone. He slams into Puck, harsh strokes that rattle Puck’s teeth but do nothing to sooth the ache growing like a fire in his belly. Epel grinds his pelvis into him and grasps Puck’s dick, stroking him quickly into a shrieking climax.

Lassitude creeps over Puck as Epel slowly pulls out of his body. Puck doesn’t let go of the other boy, hands sweeping over the smooth skin. Epel huffs a soft laugh, and allows Puck to pull him closer. Puck buries his nose in the boy’s fragrant hair, which smells like apple blossoms and makes him think of springtime.

Of course, in the morning, his lover is gone again. Puck tells himself that it’s for the best, that he’s only dreaming it anyways. But he’s never felt so closely connected to anyone he’s slept with before and somehow, with Epel in his bed, he feels more cherished that he ever has. Part of him regrets that his encounters can’t possibly be real.

That night is the third night of lights, and Puck wakes up on his side, to find Epel already buried inside him, rocking his hips into Puck’s ass. Puck reaches back, and pulls Epel’s hand around his chest. The boy grabs Puck’s scarred nipple and tweaks it relentlessly. Puck cries out, half in pain and half in pleasure. Epel drifts his hand lower, circling Puck’s cock and Puck moves with him, fucking himself into the soft, yet strong hands of his lover.

“Why are you doing this?” Puck murmurs as he drifts on the edge of sleep.

“You called me yours,” Epel answers. “On these nights, I have the power to give you back a little of what you’ve lost.”

“Mmhmm,” Puck purrs. The words don’t really make sense to his sleep-fuddled brain, but he doesn’t care.

The morning finds him alone, and he wants to curse, but as it’s a Saturday, he gets up and slouches in front of the TV, watching mindlessly with Sarah while she scoops Frosted Flakes into her mouth. Puck decides he wants pancakes, but can’t manage the incentive to get up and make them.

Epel comes to him again that night, and Puck yields his body to the other boy without question, soon finding himself drowning in pleasure, crying out for more without inhibition. Neither his mother nor his sister ever mention the noises he makes during the night, one more piece of evident that he’s dreaming the whole thing. Puck can’t figure out which portion of his fucked up psyche is responsible for creating a gay ghost to haunt him with.

As the nights of Hanukah draw to a close, Puck becomes anxious about what will happen when holiday is over. Epel had said that it is the festival of lights that allows him out of his prison. Puck has no doubt that when Hanukah ends, his nights with Epel will end as well. He is unaccountably saddened by the idea.

His depression doesn’t go unnoticed. Naomi cooks his favorite meal on Wednesday night. She gives her children gift cards that night, fifty dollars each. Puck is amazed, knowing how much she would have to sacrifice to get them such a nice gift. He and Sarah hug her tightly, grateful that she’s there. Puck thinks unwillingly of Beth, but consoles himself that his daughter will never lack for anything.

After dinner, Puck considers his dilemma with his mysterious lover, and decides that if that night would be their last together, than at least he needs to have an idea what the man who fucked him so wonderfully looked like. He borrows a reading light from Sarah and wires it so that the switch rests under his pillow and he can flick it on without moving very far.

When his room is set with the trap to find the identity of the man who visits him, Puck lays down, trying to will himself to sleep, hoping Epel would come to him as quickly as possible.

He wakes to find Epel kissing his way down Puck’s spine. Puck stretches and quivers, enjoying the treatment. Epel doesn’t stop when he reaches Puck’s tailbone, instead pushing him over to his front and spreading his cheeks so Epel can more easily get at the hidden furled tissue that guards Puck’s entrance. He works Puck open, lapping at him until he can push inside Puck’s body. Puck groans and cries out, pressing back against the tongue invading him.

“Godammit, fuck me!” Puck demands.

“You don’t enjoy this?” Epel asks, raising his head.

“Don’t fucking stop,” Puck howls, aware that he’s being irrational, but too lost in sensation to care.

Epel laughs against the curve of his ass cheek. He kneels up between Puck’s sprawled legs, pulling him back onto his hands and knees. Puck arches his spine, instinctively presenting himself for easier penetration. Epel indulges him, sliding in smoothly until his balls rest against Puck’s. They move together in a harsh rhythm, Epel’s cock scraping Puck’s prostate with every plunge inside Puck’s body. Puck’s comes first, crying out, and then feeling the spray of Epel’s come against the insides of his body.

Their hearts slow gradually, and their bodies calm down. Epel pulls out, wrapping himself around Puck the way Puck likes it. He feels himself starting to grow sleepy but he fights it, groping his fingers under the pillow until he finds the switch for the reading light.

The soft light floods the room and Epel stiffens in shock. Puck turns his head quickly, catching a brief glimpse of the man behind him.

“You fool,” Epel says, but then the light flares unbearably bright and he’s gone.

Blinking furiously against the afterimages, Puck sits up, trying to fix the image of his lover his mind. The evidence of his eyes finally connects with the memories in his brain and Puck whispers, “Hummel? What the fuck?”

He looks down at the place where the other man had been expecting to see nothing but an indentation in his mattress, but to his shock there was something there . . . the creepy Hummel figurine that had been the gift from Grandma Puckerman. The one he thought he’d hidden in the depths of his closet.

“Okay, seriously, what the fuck?” Puck says. He picks up the little painted boy, staring at his still features. “Well that takes being fucked by a toy to a whole new level,” he mutters.

He tries to sleep, wondering what it all means. He still can’t believe that Kurt Hummel was his ghostly lover. The diva boy is supposed to be safely tucked away at that preppy academy. Not in some sort of prison, and definitely not in Puck’s bed giving him the best lay of his life.

Puck tosses and turns the rest of the night, and then drags himself to school, feeling wrung out. His stomach roils uncomfortably and he can’t force himself to eat any lunch. The Glee club rehearses their Christmas songs and he practices without protest. He’s exhausted from his sleepless night, and although he looks forward to getting into his bed that night, the emptiness of it tears at his heart.

He lays back, deliberately calling forth his memories of Kurt, from the first sight of him in middle school to the last time Kurt was in the choir room before he ran from the bullying he was experiencing. Puck can’t reconcile that boy with his lover from the past few nights.

He tosses and turns most of the night, not feeling rested at all when morning finally comes. He doesn’t have any trouble convincing the school nurse to let him lie down for most of his classes.

The next week passes for Puck in an exhausted blur. He can’t get a good night’s sleep, but on the other hand, he can’t work up an appetite. He knows he’s losing weight, but can’t bring himself to do anything about it. He’s a little pissed off at himself for apparently pining over a lover.

A few days before winter break starts, he plops down at a table in the cafeteria opposite from Quinn. She’s miraculously free of Evans, for once, and Puck really wishes he could curl into her lap. The urge startles him. She pulls out her sandwich and bites into it.

A nauseating stench reaches his nostrils and he pinches his nose closed. “Holy crap! What the fuck are you eating?”

“Tuna salad,” she answers, looking at him with puzzlement clear on her face.

“That smells like dog shit,” he says, burying his nose in his shirt. “I think I’m gonna hurl.”

He gets up and rushes out, headed for the nearest restroom. It’s a girls’ one, but he doesn’t give a shit. Puck drops to his knees, stomach heaving as he loses what little is on his stomach.

Quinn follows him in, and stands leaning against the door of the stall as he convulses.

“Must’ve picked up a bug,” Puck says, wiping his mouth on the toilet paper that she hands him when he’s finally through. A cramp ripples through his abdomen, low across his pubic bone. He presses on his abs, trying to relieve the discomfort.

Quinn steps forward and rests a cool hand on his forehead. “You’re not feverish. When was the last time you ate?”

“Fuck, don’t talk about food.”

“The smell set you off?” she asks.

“Yeah, that was nasty.”

“Have you been . . .” she blushes furiously.

“What?”

“Having sex.”

He rolls his eyes at her. “Duh.”

“No, I mean . . . have you been, uh, on the receiving end?”

He can’t stop his reaction to the question, as the memories of his nights with Epel cross his mind. “Yeah.”

“It’s not possible,” she whispers, almost to herself.

“What are you talking about?” He winces as he gets to his feet, the weird muscle cramps continuing to ripple across his abdomen.

“Come on,” she tugs on his arm. “We need to ditch.”

“Not that I care about school at the moment, but why?”

“You need to trust me,” she answers. “I’m probably crazy, but we need to be sure.”

“Whatever,” he says, following her out to the parking lot. He’s oddly grateful for her company.

She drives to the nearest Walgreens and he follows her out of the car. He eyes the candy aisle, suddenly feeling his appetite return. Quinn slaps his hands away and leads him to the aisle with the feminine products. Puck inadvertently remembers Grandma Puckerman’s gift to Sarah. Maybe it’s a good thing Sarah doesn’t have to shop for this just yet.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asks as Quinn picks up a pregnancy test.

“I asked you to trust me, remember?” Quinn says. “Come on.”

They stand in line to pay, when someone with a raucous voice accosts them.

“Oh, hell to the no. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Not again.”

Puck looks around to see Santana glaring at them and the package in Quinn’s hands. Quinn says nothing, merely pays for the test and exits the store. Puck looks at Santana and shrugs helplessly. She follows them out.

Quinn pauses while she unlocks the car. “It’s not what you think.”

“Oh, really,” Santana says, bobbing her head in an angry gesture that Puck knows all too well. “I think you spread your slutty legs again and didn’t learn your lesson from last time. And you,” she says, glaring at Puck, “haven’t learned to keep you dick away from other people’s stuff.”

“I’m not the one who’s been spreading my legs,” Quinn says primly, getting into the car. “Just stay out of this.”

“No,” Santana says. “You tell me what the hell is going on right fucking now, or I’m telling poor, sweet Sam that his girlfriend is playing him for a fool. Then I’ll see if I could possibly console him.”

Quinn looks at Puck, real fear in her eyes. He shrugs again. “I don’t fucking care. I think you’re insane, but whatever.”

“Get in,” she tells Santana.

The other Cheerio complies, but Puck can tell she’s still seriously pissed off. Her curiosity keeps her quiet for the moment. Quinn drives them to his house and then pushes Puck into the bathroom with the test.

“Just pee on the stick,” she instructs.

“Okay, seriously. What the actual fuck?” Santana hisses as Puck closes the door.

“Shut up,” Quinn says in response.

Puck holds the stick at a comfortable distance from his dick and then checks his aim to make sure most of it will go in the toilet. He pisses seemingly forever, and then shakes off the remainder when he’s finished. He doesn’t look at the test, just hands it to Quinn and walks out onto the porch. He sits on the steps, hunched against the cold. Santana follows him out, sitting beside him without saying anything.

Quinn comes out a few minutes later. “It’s positive,” she whispers.

“Luucy, you got some ‘splaining to do,” Santana says, trying to laugh, but failing miserably.

Sitting down on his other side, Quinn wraps an arm around him. “What happened?”

Puck gives a short laugh. “Fuck if I know.”

“What do you mean?” Santana says. “You had sex with some guy, and now you’re pregnant. Apparently. Who’s the lucky daddy?”

“I, uh, . . . I’m not really sure.”

“Did you go to a gay bar or something?” Quinn asks hesitantly.

“No, it was right here in the house,” Puck answers.

“Then how can you not know who you had sex with?” Santana growls.

“You won’t believe me,” Puck says morosely.

“You’re pregnant. And a _dude._ We’re already in the Twilight Zone. Try us,” Santana suggests.

“All right, come on.” Puck stands up and leads the way to his bedroom. The little painted boy is still on his dresser. He picks it up and hands it to Santana.

“My bitch grandma gave me that for Hanukah. I woke up that night with some strange guy in my bed and he wanted to, you know, fuck me.” Puck shrugs. “He had good hands, so I let him.”

“And?” Quinn presses. “What does that have to do with this tacky thing?”

“He said I wasn’t allowed to see him and that he was in prison. That the power of the Festival of Lights let him out temporarily.”

“Okay, so yeah, that’s a little freaky,” Santana nods.

“This statue looks like Kurt,” Quinn says, touching the figurine’s blushing cheek.

“Hummel?” Santana asks. She tilts the statue into the light. “Yeah, you’re right, Quinny.”

“So Hanukah ended,” Quinn prompts. “What happened then?”

“I knew it was going to be the last night with him, so I rigged a light and turned it on, when we, uh, finished.”

“So who was it?”

Puck gestures to the little figurine in Santana’s hands. “Him. I mean, I thought it looked like Kurt, but as soon as the lights went on he disappeared. The only thing left in bed with me was the statue. And I’ve been feeling weird ever since.”

“And now you’re knocked up,” Santana summarizes.

Quinn says cautiously, “We need to find your . . .”

“Baby daddy,” Santana finishes with a smirk.

“It’s not fucking funny” Puck grumbles. He wants to tell the girls to leave and then crawl in to bed.

“Has anyone talked to Kurt recently?” Quinn asks.

“Why would we?” Santana asks. “Finn or Mercedes might have.”

“Not Finn, fuck no,” Puck protests.

“All right, we have to tell Mercedes though. She won’t try to talk to Kurt otherwise. You know how protective she is of him.”

“Okay, fine,” Puck says.

“And,” Quinn says, “if this is some sort of magic brought on by the celebration of Hanukah, we need to talk to someone who knows about it. Someone else Jewish.”

“You mean the hobbit?” Santana asks. “She can’t keep her fucking mouth shut, you know that.”

“Only when it comes to Finn,” Quinn argues. “I think, with this . . . she wouldn’t say anything.”

“Whatever,” Puck says, with a sense that his life is spiraling out of his control. He can’t bring himself to care, as long as he doesn’t land in juvie again.

“I’ll call Rachel,” Quinn says. “You call Mercedes. Tell them to get over here ASAP.”

Puck gives into his urges of his weary body and lies down on the bed, trying to will himself to sleep. He’s fucking exhausted. Quinn walks in holding a plate of toast.

“You need to try to eat,” she says firmly.

He sits up and takes it, nibbling on it slowly to make sure his stomach won’t rebel again.

“The others are on their way,” Quinn says. “Listen, you need to start your day with something on your stomach. Just crackers of something.”

“Yes, mom,” Puck snarks.

“What’s going on?” Rachel says as she walks into the room, her eyes taking in Quinn soothing Puck’s head and Santana standing against the wall with her arms folded.

“For reals,” Mercedes adds. “Where’s the fire?”

“You tell them,” Puck says. “I’m too tired to go through it again.”

Quinn gives the other two girls the story. Mercedes picks up the Hummel figurine, staring at it while Quinn talks.

“This does look like Kurt,” Mercedes concedes.

“Have you talked to him since he went off to that fancy school?” Santana asks.

“No,” Mercedes says softly. “I thought he was . . . you know. Ditching me.” There’s a world of hurt in her voice.

“Okay, so maybe Ladyface is actually in trouble. Call him and see,” Santana says.

Mercedes takes out her phone, fingers moving swiftly over the keys. She holds the phone to her ear while the rest of them wait. “Nothing,” she says finally. “It went straight to voice mail.”

“What do we do?” Santana asks.

“There’s a sort of side branch of Judaism called Semitic Neopaganism that is concerned with magic and other gods. Very female centered,” Rachel begins. “I’ve looked into it in the course of trying to find my antecedents.”

“And?” Santana asks sharply.

Rachel paces around the room, waving her hands. “He mentioned the lights, that the light released him from prison. There are a few nights during the year when the powers of darkness draw back. The eight nights of Hanukah is one of those times.”

“But Puck messed things up when he tried to see who was with him,” Quinn puts in.

“So he may not be able to come back the next time the darkness weakens,” Rachel says. “Puck will have to go find him instead.”

“Wait,” Puck protests. “How the hell am I going to find some mysterious boy who can appear in my bed at will? And get me pregnant, apparently,” he finishes with a mutter.

“I don’t know just yet,” Rachel says. “ A summoning ritual, perhaps. We’ll have to research. There’s still a little time.”

“When is the next night?” Mercedes asks.

Rachel looks at Puck. “Belief gives power. The most powerful night for the light . . . is Christmas Eve.”

“That’s only a week and a half away,” Quinn says.

“I know. It doesn’t give us much time,” Rachel agrees.

“Do we need to get anyone else in on this?” Mercedes asks.

“No,” Rachel says. “We four should be enough. We encompass the necessary elements.” She points to Mercedes. “Earth.” Then she turns to Quinn. “Air.” Santana . . . “Fire.” She gestures to herself. “That leaves me as water.”

Puck shakes his head. “Fuck my life anyway.”

Mercedes seems to have been appointed his keeper. She shows up at his house every morning, making sure that he at least has some juice and crackers, and then driving him to school. When they get out on break, she still comes over, but takes him back to her house instead where they play endless rounds of video games and Puck tries to ignore that crap that’s happening in his life. Rachel has everyone reading endless supplies of books and websites about crazy shit.

“Here’s something,” Quinn says, looking up from her laptop. It’s three days before the twenty-fourth and they’re all draped over the couches in Mercedes’ basement. “It’s about apples. There’s a legend about the goddess Frigg. She gave an apple to a barren woman, and when the woman swallowed it, she became pregnant.”

“Oh!” Rachel says, digging through the pile of books. “Epel means ‘apple’ in one of the Germanic languages.”

They all turn to look at the little figurine that goes everywhere with them . . . the boy and the apple tree with the perching bird. Puck suddenly remembers how Epel smelled of apple blossoms and a bolt of heated desire shoots through him, leaving him on fire with want for the other boy. He excuses himself to the nearest bathroom and jacks himself off desperately, pleading in his head for Kurt to come back to him.

“At least we know what pantheon we’re dealing with,” Santana is saying when Puck comes back.

“I didn’t swallow an apple,” Puck grumbles.

“Well, metaphysically, you sort of did,” Mercedes points out.

“Whatever.”

On Christmas Eve, Puck convinces Naomi to take Sarah and go visit Aunt Ruth. The girls arrive as soon as the sun starts getting low in the winter sky. They had decided to do the summoning at Puck’s house since that was where Epel had appeared at first. Mercedes has never been able to reach Kurt, and discreet questions to Finn haven’t produced any answers that satisfy them about Kurt’s whereabouts.

The girls decide to do the ritual in the living room, and shove the furniture out of the way to make room. Quinn draws a circle with her finger running over the rug, leaving behind disrupted carpet fibers. Santana places four pillar candles at equal distances around the circle and lights them.

“Lay down in the center,” she tells Puck. “And take your clothes off.”

Rachel and Mercedes settle into position on the edge of the circle, waiting for him to cooperate. Puck shakes his head, but does as he’s ordered. He feels really weird being naked in front of all of them when he knows damn well the experience isn’t going to lead to any fun and kinky sex.

He gets into the circle, lying stiff and uncomfortable. The girls dip paintbrushes into small tubs of warm water and paint designs on his body that no one can see.

“It’s all about intent,” Rachel explains. “The patterns don’t matter. The fact that we adorned you for Frigg’s enjoyment is the key.”

Puck doesn’t argue, figuring that the whole thing is pretty much out of his hands anyway.

“Raise you knees and spread your feet apart,” Quinn says.

“Okay, just a second. I don’t . . .”

“Frigg is a goddess of love and fertility,” Santana interrupts him. “You have to appeal to her through that.”

She puts his legs in the position she wants and then places the Hummel figurine between his thighs so that the little painted boy is facing his junk, which is creepy. Puck feels oddly vulnerable, open like this, and also completely freaked out.

Santana and Quinn settle into their positions on the circle after turning off all the lights in the house.

They all sit quietly for a few moments, and then Mercedes begins, “Feel your body connected to the earth below you.”

Quinn picks it up, “Feel the weight of the sky above you.”

“Feel the fire of life inside you,” Santana whispers.

“And the waters of life flowing through you,” Rachel finishes.

“I am the spirit of the earth. Frigg, the earth calls you to hear our plea,” Mercedes murmurs.

“I am the spirit of the air. Frigg, the air calls you to hear our plea,” Quinn says.

Puck finds himself relaxing, his mind drifting, caught by the girls’ chanting. They repeat their imploring calls to the goddess again and again.

A doorway of light appears in the wall of the room. Puck picks himself up and walks towards it, knowing without looking back that he’s leaving his body behind. Beyond the door lies mists and darkness. Puck has no idea where he’s going, but keep walking, the name of the goddess he’s searching for echoing in his mind.

He gropes through the darkness for what seems like hours before the light grows again and he comes upon a beautiful woman sitting on a rock, brushing her hair.

“Hey, can you help me?” Puck asks.

“That depends,” the woman replies, “on what you seek.”

She turns around and Puck can’t stop his gasp. She’s the hottest woman he’s ever seen. He looks down to see if he’s still naked, and he finds that he’s not only nude, but also hard.

“This is fucking embarrassing,” he mutters.

“You have sought me for a boon. Ask before I grow weary of you.”

Puck pulls himself together. “I’m looking for this guy. He came to my bed and fucked me.”

“I see.”

“Can you help me?” Puck asks.

“Many years ago, I walked the earth in mortal guise. I met a man who had the greatest heart of any I had ever known. He entranced me and I consented to live with him as his wife. I bore him a son, and for a brief time we were happy together. But Odin called me back to my duties, and it was as though I had died.”

“Oh, shit, you’re Kurt’s mother,” Puck exclaims. Burt Hummel evidently has more going on than meets the eye.

“Yes. My son is part god and part mortal.”

“I’m pretty sure that he’s the one I’m looking for. Will you help me find him?”

“Kurt didn’t know his true heritage until he fell into the trap set by the prince. My son has suffered much on this plane. Many times at your hands.”

Puck blushes, ashamed of himself. “I know. I’m sorry. I’ve learned to be different than that and he’s part of why.”

“It’s true that he has expended a great deal of his power to get you with his child. Even now your body responds to his magic, rearranging to accommodate the seed he planted.”

“Yeah, so I need to find him,” Puck says.

“The question is whether he needs you,” she responds.

“I don’t know. Maybe he doesn’t. But I think I might love him. Let me have a chance to make him happy,” Puck pleads.

Frigg stares at him for many moments and Puck has to force himself not to drop his gaze. Finally she says, “You may claim love, but I have a mind to test your heart.”

Puck sighs, knowing he doesn’t have any choice. “I want him back.”

“Very well. Your rash actions have trapped him, although it wasn’t you who created the trap. Dalton’s prince seeks his hand and importunes him mightily. If you cannot find him before sunrise, then he will give in and accept Blaine’s suit. He will be lost to you forever.”

“How do I find him?”

“Look with the eyes of love,” she says. She holds out a hand to him, a glowing light cupped in her palm. “I will lend you a star; it will lead you to Kurt, but there are many dangers on your path.”

“Of course there are,” Puck mutters, but he takes the star from her. The light rests in his hand but doesn’t burn him. His eyes are dazzled by it and he wonders how he’s going to see anything. He turns to ask Frigg about it, but the goddess has disappeared.

“Okay, Lassie,” he says to the star. “Timmy’s in the well, and we have to get him out.”

Nothing happens.

“Please star, take me to Kurt.”

The light rises up slightly and moves an inch or two in front of him. Puck steps forward and the star retreats again.

“Okay, I get it. I’ll follow you,” Puck tells it.

They walk for a long time, twisting through the large rocks that litter the path. Puck doesn’t think about how much time is passing, just concentrates on following his starry guide. The rocks grow disappear finally and a light appears, but it isn’t the healthy clear light of his star, but instead a sickly green. The star floats over an expanse of slimy squirming things. A nauseating smell rises from the pool, and Puck swallows against his rising gorge.

“Fuck,” he says, stepping forward into the shit. He’s still barefoot and naked, and his toes search anxiously for a grip in the heaving slime. He struggles for balance, sliding as he walks. Puck breathes through his nose, resolutely clamping his mouth shut against the urge to puke.

They finally make it to the other side, and Puck lurches into the grass, dropping to his knees as he finally loses control of his stomach. He hacks and coughs until nothing else comes up. The star waits patiently until Puck gets to his feet and then it flits off.

The next thing Puck encounters is a low bank of cloud. The star goes inside it and Puck follows blindly. He has no idea what he’s walking on, and unfortunately, his imagination slightly overcompensates for his inability to see where he’s going. He keeps his eyes glued to the star, focusing on thoughts of finding Kurt and how hot their reunion will be, while he ignores the messages his feet are sending him.

Puck feels much better when he leaves the cloud behind. Ahead of him, the landscape takes on a warm glow, but Puck’s heart clenches in fear that the sun is coming up and he’s too late. However, the star leads him to the edge of a river of magma in the midst of a barren and shattered landscape. Heat radiates from the molten rock, burning Puck’s lungs as he tries to breathe, and searing his eyes.

“Fuck no, I can’t do that, star,” Puck whimpers as the heat drives him backwards.

The star says nothing, merely hovers over the river of rock, waiting for him. Puck slumps to the ground, resting his head on his knees. “I can’t.”

But there’s no other way, not if he wants to find Kurt. Puck gets up and locks his eyes on the star. He screams as he wades into the lava, agony of heat driving clear to his bones. Every step is torture and Puck is beyond thinking, clinging to the sight of the star as it leads him forward.

When he finally reaches the other side, Puck is relieved to see that he’s unharmed. He really wants to rest, but a sense of urgency drives him forward, a fear that the night is ending and he’ll lose his chance to be with Kurt.

The star leads him to a thick wooden door set in a brick wall. Puck lifts the latch and cautiously walks through. He finds himself in a luxuriously furnished room that is full of rich fabrics and comfortable chairs. Over the fireplace hangs a large coat of arms with the words ‘Dalton Academy’ written in interlacing script. The star twinkles brightly and then goes out.

“Wait!”

But the star is gone.

Puck looks around at the opulent surroundings. “Pretty fucking fancy,” he mutters. He wanders around the room, not knowing what to do next. He passes an archway leading to another room. Upon hearing voices, Puck presses against the wall, hoping he hasn’t been seen.

“Won’t you sing for me?” someone asks in a cultured voice. “Come on, Kurt. If you just surrender to me, I’ll let you out.”

Silence follows and Puck breathes shallowly, excitement and nerves tightening his stomach. He tries to send his thoughts to Kurt, to give the other boy the strength to resist whatever is being offered to him.

“Give up, Kurt,” the smooth voice says. “No one is coming for you. I can make your life very pleasant and you’ll soon forget about these thoughts of freedom.”

There’s no answer from Kurt. Puck doesn’t know what to do. He’s afraid to accost the other man, for fear of what might happen to Kurt. He doesn’t know what kind of prison Kurt is in. The passing of time prods him to act though and he’s about to step into the room to confront Kurt’s captor when the other man speaks again.

“Fine. I would have liked you to come to me willingly, but I’m okay with taking what I’m entitled to by force. When the sun comes up, your resistance won’t matter. I’ll come back for you then.”

The sound of a heavy door closing echoes through the rooms. Puck moves before he can think about it. This is his chance to get to Kurt. He rushes into the room, but it’s empty, no sign of the wayward soprano. The only living thing in the room besides possibly the dust mites is a canary in a gilded cage.

“Kurt!” Puck calls softly, not wanting to alert any guards who might be outside the room.

No one answers him. Puck searches the room as quickly and quietly as he can, looking underneath the couches and behind the drapes. Nothing.

He stands in the middle of the room feeling panicked. Puck has no idea what to do. There might be some secret entrance to Kurt’s prison inside the room, but he has no time to find it.

The birdcage catches his eye and he finally registers the color of the bird’s feathers . . . yellow. The third figure in the tableau of the Hummel figurine is a yellow bird on the branch of the apple tree. Puck dashes forward, falling to his knees in front of the cage.

“Kurt? Is that you?”

He opens the latch of the cage and gently cups his hand under the tiny body. The canary makes no resistance as Puck draws it out, sitting in his hand with its heart beating rapidly. Puck cradles the bird against his chest and settles onto the floor.

“Kurt . . . I need you to come back. Everyone misses you.” He drops a gentle kiss onto the yellow feathers. If the bird isn’t Kurt, he’s going to feel really fucking stupid, but Puck doesn’t care. He’s run out of ideas. “And I’m pretty damn sure I love you.”

Suddenly his lap is full of a heavy body with long legs and radiant skin. Puck tips the boy’s chin up and finds himself looking into Kurt’s blue-green eyes. He dips his head to kiss Kurt’s lush mouth even as the first rays of the rising sun slide over their shoulders. Puck ignores everything going on around them, from the shouting boys to the steady warmth creeping up his back from the sun, losing himself in the feel of Kurt.

When Puck opens his eyes, the walls of Dalton Academy fade away and he’s back on the floor of his living room with his arms full of Kurt. He’s still naked, but Kurt is in his Dalton uniform. Kurt is on top of him, nipping at the side of his neck and Puck thrusts up against him instinctively, forgetting about the clothing inequality.

“Oh my,” someone says.

Puck stops kissing Kurt long enough to look around. The girls are still there, watching them with varying degrees of shock.

“Don’t stop,” Santana says. “That’s fucking hot.”

Kurt drops his head onto Puck’s shoulder, muffling a laugh.

“Time to go,” Mercedes says, standing up and tugging on Santana’s arm. She hustles the other three girls out the door without much fuss.

Settling between Puck’s spread legs, Kurt’s hands find the places that make Puck cry out with lust. Puck knows where they’re headed, but he wraps his hands around Kurt’s to slow things down a little.

“You knocked me up,” he accuses the other boy.

“You let me,” Kurt responds smugly. “Remember?”

He reaches down to rub the place on Puck’s abdomen that’s been having so many cramps. Puck responds to the touch helplessly, moaning his need and opening his legs to cradle Kurt against his pelvis. Kurt stands and helps Puck up off the floor.

“Come on,” Kurt says. “We’ve got to make up for lost time. There’s still a ton of things I want to do to you.”

“What if _I_ want to do things to _you_ ,” Puck protests.

“Works for me,” Kurt responds.

School starts again after the break on January third. Puck is standing at his locker before first period when he hears a low murmur go through the hall. He looks up to find Kurt striding towards him. Kurt is wearing tight-fitting riding pants and knee-high boots. Puck sucks in his breath as desire hits him at the sight of his boyfriend.

“Kurt!” Artie says, rolling up to the soprano. “You came back.”

Looking at Puck, Kurt says, “Dalton wasn’t the place for me. It was stifling my . . . creativity.”

Puck walks over to him, sliding an arm around his waist and pressing a kiss to his fragrant hair. Kurt still smells like apple blossoms.

Kurt turns in his arms and whispers in Puck’s ear, “Plus I had to come back to keep an eye on what’s _mine._ ”

Puck shudders at the possessive growl, wanting to get Kurt naked. Being pregnant doesn’t seem to have done anything to cool his libido. Besides, dating a demigod who’s just recently come into his powers is fucking hot, but Puck figures he’s the only person at McKinley High who’s badass enough to pull it off.

“Later,” Kurt promises.

They walk arm in arm to their first class.


End file.
